


Somewhere With You

by MagicInHerMadness



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-it fic, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicInHerMadness/pseuds/MagicInHerMadness
Summary: Fix-it fic for the season finale that resolves the Bawson issue and Ginny's injury. Based on lyrics from Kenny Chesney's "Somewhere With You". Previously a drabble, now a multi-chapter fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You laid me down, whispered in my ear  
> I hate my life, hold on to me  
> Ah, if you ever decide to leave  
> Then I'll go, I'll go, I'll go

Ginny’s French-braiding her hair when the doorbell rings. She pushes off the couch and goes to answer it, wondering who’s so bold as to drop by unannounced. She’s had her fair share of visitors since It happened, but she’s managed just enough vitriol to make herself a recluse for the past week. She’s not surprised to find Mike on the other side. He’s the only person who won’t leave her alone. He won’t let her settle into bitterness no matter how much she wants to.

He’s dressed for once, that tattered leather jacket of his still around despite popular demand to the contrary. And carrying a big leather duffel bag. His face is its usual unsmiling self and Ginny can’t help but grin at him. She doesn’t smile much these days but the sight of him does it for her. “Hey old man. You didn’t bring me anything to eat?”

He shakes his head, gestures to come inside. “I just stopped by to tell you goodbye.”

“Somebody shipping you off to the old folks’ home?” She jokes to keep her stomach from digesting itself. He’s been officially retired since It happened and she’s teased him about stealing her thunder.

He shakes his head, smirking only briefly before his expression returns to its usual seriousness. “No, Gin. Listen to me. I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore, be here. And don’t tell me I’m quitting because I gave this town almost two decades of my life. The rest is mine.”

Ginny looks at the bag again. “What do you mean by leaving? Where are you going?”

He shrugs. “First stop is Jamaica. After that, I don’t know.”

Her eyes dart to the bag once more then back to his face. He hasn’t cracked a smile yet. “You’re serious.”

He nods. “It’s time for something different, Baker. I don’t know what but…”

Ginny moves around him and shuts the door. “When are you leaving?”

“Flight’s at 6. I just wanted to tell you goodbye. I texted Blip that I was taking off for a while, but I wanted to tell you in person since…”

He can’t go without letting her know. He thought about it, but after everything that had happened between him, he needs to see those eyes just one more time. Ginny nods then turns and heads into her bedroom. He drops his bag and follows without a thought, hoping she isn’t going to cry. He’ll never be able to leave her if she cries.

But she’s not thrown across her bed sobbing. He finds her in her closet, pulling things off her clothing rack. In an open suitcase on the floor are her favorite trainers. She tosses clothes on top of them then moves to a chest of drawers and begins removing underwear. “Baker, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she answers as if it’s that simple.

“What?”

She stops, turns to look at him.

“I’m done with San Diego, Mike. Baseball’s the only thing I’ve ever known how to do and I can’t even do it anymore. What am I supposed to do? Take a pity position at ESPN? Spend the rest of my life being a trivia question? Maybe do a stint on _Dancing with the Stars_? I can’t go out like that.” She shakes her head, goes back to packing. “Besides, if we were somewhere else…”

She doesn’t have to finish. It’s been on his mind since he called to tell her he wouldn’t be back and she quietly admitted the same. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: her arm or the knowledge that her groundbreaking career was bookended by a lackluster start and Tommy Johns surgery. And this thing–-this strange, intense almost–-has been lingering between them since his trade fell through. Somewhere else--somewhere on a beach where no one knew them–-their almost could become a definitely. 

So Ginny throws everything she needs into a bag and changes out of her sweats into jeans and leather jacket of her own. She undoes her half a braid and pulls her hair into a loose topknot then slips on wayfarers not unlike Mike’s trademark pair. Mike watches all of this from her bed until she turns to look at him. “Shouldn’t you call and get me a ticket?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got two first class seats.”

“Two?”

“I hate sitting beside people,” he replies with a shrug. He smiles. “Present company excluded.”

She closes her suitcase, sends Evelyn a quick text about sneaking away to clear her head, and they leave her hotel through the service entrance in the back of the kitchen. Ginny hands the cook who lets them out a twenty. “You didn’t see us.”

He nods and shuts the door behind them. Ginny doesn’t know that he’s fresh off the boat from Puerto Rico, isn’t even entirely sure who they are. They drive to the airport, their fingers shyly intertwined, and Mike uses a little charm to change the name on one of his seats for Ginny. Ginny’s relieved when the use of their full first names inexplicably prevents the airport employee from making the connection.

Eight hours later, they’re lying on a blindingly white beach, using the setting sun to dry them from their dip in the ocean. It was their first stop, their luggage still untouched in their tiny bungalow. Mike reaches over, traces the almost invisible surgical star. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Me either,” she replies.

He frowns. “Do you wanna go back?”

She shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face. “Never.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure where this is going, just that it's going.

The beach agrees with Ginny Baker. It’s the first thing Mike thinks when she almost skips out of the bungalow that has become their home for the past three weeks. It’s an upscale beach shack, four airy rooms and a little porch with a hanging swing. He hasn’t lived somewhere so small since he was in the minors, and when he bought what Blip calls his “glass case of emotion”, he never imagined he could go back to living in a cracker box.

But here he is, perfectly content as he lays on his rickety beach chair, a bottle of lemon water beside him. The beach agrees with him too. His beer drinking has gone down by half. He even rides a bike, something he never thought his knees and back would agree with but have strangely taken to. And the sleep. Between the ocean roaring and music drifting from somewhere he’s not sure of, Mike has never slept so well. Although the warmth of a certain body beside him might be what’s really making all the difference…

Ginny’s blooming much the same way. She got her hair woven into swinging twists that always smell like jasmine, a scent Mike’s never appreciated so much. And she’s bronze from head to toe, a side effect of swimming every day. The water’s gentle resistance has done wonders for her arm. Her pitch is nothing like it was, but she’s regained a lot of its strength. Not that she minds. She’s finally found what Al was talking about, that life outside of baseball.

They’ve talked about the strangeness of living lives completely devoid of baseball after living and breathing nothing else for their whole lives, and they both often wonder if they’ll ever go back, if they _can_ back after knowing this kind of freedom. Their co-disappearance is still pretty big news but losing steam as the Cubs get closer and closer to their first World Series win in over a century. Mike had imagined he’d be bitter as he watched them carry on, but a few weeks away has put everything in perspective. He wasn’t really after the ring, just the idea that he’d be more than just another baseball player. He wanted to be more that a Padres vet when he hung up his cleats. But now it’s just fine because Al’s been right all along. The game isn’t everything.

She stops at his chair, plops onto his lap and takes his water, leans back against him lazily. “Wanna go dancing tonight?”

He almost doesn’t hear her, far too focused on nuzzling her neck. Another beach life plus: she never wears full clothes anymore. All her shirts are cropped and her shorts are almost too short to be considered as such. She’s currently in a black bikini top and a pair of neon Nike shorts, and Mike smiles at her “sun tattoo,” a little heart on her left hipbone made by stickers she got at a surf shack. He kisses the actual tattoo behind her right ear, a little bird in flight. She’s only got one other tat, a tiny 36 on the inside of her left wrist. He’s got a 43 on his right one. It was all impulse. They were out for a walk after dinner and passed a parlor. Ginny pulled him in, “just to look” and soon they were in adjacent chairs, holding hands as they got inked. He nuzzles the shell of her ear and she giggles, squirms away. “What?”

“I asked if you wanna go dancing tonight. Going deaf, old man?” She turns to grin at him. She’s got a smattering of freckles on her nose now from too many days of napping in the sun. Mike’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Sounds good.” Her phone starts ringing inside and she slides off him before he can answer. He smacks her ass and it jiggles invitingly. She snorts as she looks back at him. He shrugs, smiling. “Old habits die hard.”

Ginny traipses back into the house, plops on the couch and answers the phone, already knowing it’s Evelyn. “Have I mentioned my seething jealousy that you’ve just ditched your life for nonstop sun and sand?”

Ginny laughs. “WAG drama?”

“Butch’s wife moved out, says she’s not going back until he lays off the boozing.”

Ginny snorts. She loves Butch but that’s a man who isn’t putting down the beer any time soon. “So she’s going on a long vacation herself?”

Evelyn gives a mirthless laugh then switches gears. “So how’s the old man?”

“Not quite so old. We ride bikes. We’ve been grilling fish and veggies. He even does yoga with me, Ev.” Evelyn can practically hear her friend’s smile.

“Is he all Rasta’d out?”

Ginny laughs. “He’s got a beaded necklace and a tan but that’s about it. He even trimmed the beard.”

“So now the carpet definitely matches the face?”

Ginny laughs harder. “I’m not gonna dignify that with an answer.”

“So you’re admitting you’ve seen the carpet?” Evelyn laughs.

“Seen” is hardly an accurate description. There isn’t an inch of the bungalow they haven’t christened. They even worked their way out to their little patch of beach after a little party with their neighbors where Ginny got tipsy on margaritas and learned to “dutty whine”. Mike thought his rookie was enthralling just being herself, but watching her wind her hips to the drum heavy music, he’s sure this new life will be the death of him. She smiles, her face hot. “I’ve seen some things. Done some things too.”

“Well spill. Married sex is like a variety box of oatmeal. The fruit’s different but it’s still oatmeal.”

Ginny laughs. “Don’t do my man Blip like that.”

Evelyn laughs too. “We’re tentatively back on the baby train so it’s been nothing but missionary for two weeks. I’m gonna crawl out of my skin, Gin. And pregnant sex is even worse once the belly comes in.”

“I thought pregnant sex was hot.”

“For a very brief time, but we’re off topic. What’s it like bagging _the_ Mike Lawson?”

“Exhausting. That man isn’t human, Ev.” Ginny laughs.

“Are we talking about the same Mike Lawson? Six feet, dark hair, mountain man beard? Knees and back made of paper mache? A little surly? That guy?”

“The one and only.” Ginny laughs harder. “And he is not surly. He’s just got a frowny face.”

As if he knows he’s being talking about, Mike saunters into the house. He strips off his t-shirt then steps out of his shorts. Ginny’s given up on keeping him in clothes. She’s just accepted that they live in a naked house. He goes to the refrigerator, grabs another bottle of water then turns to her. “You gonna feed me today, rookie?”

Ginny smiles because she owes him after he made her midnight breakfast. “Go wash up, old man.”

“Wash up? Am I hearing _the_ Ginny Baker play house?” Evelyn teases.

“Shut up, Ev.”

She keeps laughing. “Well I won’t hold you, Mrs. Cleaver.”

Ginny laughs and they say their goodbyes. She rolls off the couch and goes into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator then calls, “What do you want for lunch old man?”

“Do we still have that chicken from last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Make me a sandwich with avocado and Miracle Whip.”

She’s almost finished with their sandwiches when Mike reappears. He’s still naked, smelling like sunshine as he wraps around her. He kisses his favorite spot behind her ear and Ginny hums. “Did I hear you telling Evelyn I’m not surly?”

“You’re not.”

He laughs, scoffs. “Yes I am. Baker, I have a reputation to keep up.”

Ginny laughs as she turns around in his embrace, squeezes his face affectionately. “You are not surly. You’re just a cuddly grumpy bear. My cuddly grumpy bear.”

Mike wriggles his face out of her grasp. “I’ll drown you. I’ve been watching Lifetime movies and I know how to make it look like an accident.”

Ginny laughs harder. “But then who would you cuddle with all night? Sweet grumpy—”

He cuts her off by tickling her sides, makes her squirm to get away from his hands. Ginny shrieks, “Okay! Okay! I’m very sorry! You’re very surly!”

He stops, kisses her nose. “Damn right I am.”

They tangle up on the couch, watch reruns of _Frasier_. Mike makes lazy circles in the small of her back, only noticing the evenness of her breathing when she lets out a little snore. Leaving San Diego hasn’t changed the fact that Ginny can sleep anywhere, or that she’s a cuddler. She presses her face into his neck, wiggles until she’s comfortable on top of him. Mike just smiles, kisses her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for the validation of comments and kudos. I'm not proud but here I am lol 
> 
> XOXOXOXOXO


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is seriously so much fun to write. And I've managed three chapters with no smut. I'm growing lol. But the smut is forthcoming, next chapter to be exact.

Mike pulls his phone from his pocket, expecting it to be Blip or Al calling, but it's Rachel and the sight of her name on his phone screen makes him frown as he answers. "Hello."

"Hey it's me," she says as if he doesn't know.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Just checking in. How's Jamaica?"

His eyes drift to Ginny playing with the neighbors' dog in the low tide and he smiles. She’s wearing a Baywatch red one piece with a plunging neckline and high-cut bottoms that make Mike embarrassingly aware of her Brazilian wax and how tan she’s gotten in their month's stay. She tosses the tennis ball and the shaggy terrier takes off after it. "Wonderful."

"I can't believe you left," she replies and he knows she means it. She's used to knowing him like the back of her hand and he's willing to bet not getting a phone call from him before he left was a gut punch to her when the news broke. But he's not that man anymore. "Why?"

He frowns. "Are you asking me, or interviewing me Rach?"

"I'm asking Mike. You basically ran away from home. I'm worried."

Ginny plops onto the beach chair beside him and notices his phone then motions to the house before she skips away, her swimsuit riding high enough on her tanned ass cheeks that he completely forgets Rachel's on the phone until she calls his name. He blinks, remembers she's there. "Yeah?"

"I said I'm worried about you. What's going on?"

"You have no reason to be worried about me, Rach. I'm good. Better than good, honestly."

"I bought a plane ticket," she offers quietly.

 "What?"

"I could be there tonight. We could have a real chance at a new start."

"No."

There's a pause at the finality of his tone on the other end of the line before she asks, "How's Ginny?"

"What?" He's reluctant to answer if only because he knows how frequently Rachel's integrity has taken a backseat to her need for her own primetime show.

She sighs. "Spare me, Mike. You two disappeared simultaneously."

"And?"

"This is me, Mike. Give me a little credit."

"Rach..."

"I'm not fishing. I just... Before you showed up... That night... I saw the pictures of her and that guy. Too much of a coincidence for someone who's seen you in love before. Hell, I watched you fall in love with her. Remember when you asked me to cut her a break? I thought she might have asked you to talk to me but she's not the kind of girl to let somebody else fight her battles, not even her white knight captain. Then you got on ESPN and made yourself president of the Ginny Baker fan club. And the last time I interviewed her, you didn't even see me at first. It's like she was the only person in the world. And the way she froze. If I didn't know before, I knew then. So how is she?"

"Happy," he replies. It's a safe enough answer. If she chooses to break his confidence, she doesn't have any proof that Ginny was with him. The last thing he wants is for the world to come crashing in on their little slice of heaven.

"And you?"

"I'm happy too."

"Okay." And then she's gone.

He slips his phone in his pocket then heads into the house. Ginny's sitting on the bed, slathering her legs with fruity lotion. Mike sits beside her, takes the bottle and takes over her job. She undoes her towel and lays back, lets him work all the way up her body.

"That was Rachel," he volunteers because he doesn't keep anything from her anymore unless it's a candy bar. But that's a matter of self-preservation because Ginny’s got a ravenous sweet tooth.

"Oh. What'd she want, an exclusive?"

"She bought a plane ticket, like changing countries would change things between us, like I didn't tell her I was done when I retired."

Ginny rolls onto her stomach, lets him lotion her back. "She thinks you'll always want her. You're her safety net."

He flattens his palm in the small of her back and Ginny looks back at him. "I don't. I won't. I'm not."

"I know." She smiles and resumes lying down. "Noah called me yesterday. Well, he called Amelia to ask her to ask me to answer his calls."

"You didn't break up with him?"

"I thought I did. When... After it happened, he showed up at the hospital, tried to tell me all about how intensive physical therapy could help like I don't know anything about baseball. I kept telling him nobody comes back from Tommy Johns and he kept telling me that I wasn't just anybody and I snapped. He's been Mr. Fix It since we met and I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't need his theories or his research, or his money for experimental surgery, and definitely not after I just got my career ended. I just needed to grieve and he wouldn't let me do it."

"I wouldn't either," Mike points out.

"But he's not you. He didn't know me well enough to make all these assumptions and assertions about me." Ginny rolls over to look at him. "And you know, I've been the odd man out my whole life, perpetually in a space that wasn't mine to occupy, forever surrounded by people with questionable motives, and that taught me to always ask, 'Is it love or is it lonely?' It was love for him but lonely for me."

Mike smiles, lays down beside her. "What is it now, Baker?"

Ginny smiles and tweaks his nose. "It's always been love, old man."

“Even when I smacked your ass and you ripped me a new one for it?”

Ginny laughs as she thinks of how far they’ve come. “Not so much then. Then it was more of a realization why people say you should never meet your heroes.”

“Okay what about when I told you how you were blowing me away?”

She laughs, shakes her head. “Not so much then either. That was more of a band-aid for when you were such an ass to me.”

Mike laughs, pokes her side. “Okay smart ass, when did it become love?”

“The first time you called me on the phone. I mean, I heard you on tv defending me and I was so happy because my hero was bragging about me, but then you called me later and I just got this bubbly feeling. I don’t think I stopped smiling that whole call, or the day after.” She rolls onto her side to look at him. “What about you?”

“Well I was intrigued after you mouthed off to me, but…” He nods. “It had to be the phone call.”

“You’re just saying that because I said it,” she argues. “Try again old man.”

“Okay so it was that night we all went out for the first time and you were dancing. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen you smile, Gin, but it’s really something.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t dance with me?”

He nods. “Kind of. Part of me wanted to watch you. Part of me knew my knees wouldn’t go for it. And part of me knew that if I touched you then, I’d never stop.”

She smiles, her face hot. Mike notices her smitten expression and grins like only he can.

"I know." He winks and brushes her hair back from her face. "Is it love or is it lonely? That's deep."

Ginny laughs. "I'm a wealth of wisdom."

"You're a wealth of stolen candy and sarcasm," he teases then asks, "So what did he want when he called if you'd already given him his walking papers?"

"To know where I am, if I'll be back. Apparently, he's got a plane. Boat too. He told me to say the word and he'd come."

"And what did you say?"

"Goodbye."

It's petty but he chuckles and Ginny snorts as Mike lotions her right arm, his hand eventually reaching the little 36 tattooed on her wrist. He holds it up for her to see. "You should have just sent him a picture of this."

Ginny laughs. "They're not wedding bands, old man."

"Close enough. We picked them out together. They're permanent. We held hands while we got them. It could have been a wedding."

Ginny snorts. "Like you'd be so lucky."

"Says the woman who followed me across an ocean without a second thought."

"Says the man who paid my whole way without me even asking."

"Touché."

Ginny laughs. "Besides, the only reason we were holding hands is because you were being a chicken."

"That's a lie and you know it."

X

Two Weeks Earlier

The restaurant was full to bursting but the chipper hostess was adamant that they could be seated. “We don’t turn away nobody here! Everybody eat! We all g’won fit, ya see!”

“You sure you wanna eat here?” he asked Ginny.

She nodded. “The food’s gotta be amazing if they’re this packed.”

Mike nodded at the hostess and she turned to scan the room. Ginny pointed out the artwork to him and he took the opportunity of her turned head to finally look her over, a chance he hadn’t gotten since she dressed earlier that evening. She wore tiny overalls that somehow hung off her top half while simultaneously hugging her ass. Mike made a mental note to send someone at Levi's a fruit basket for making denim that loved Ginny so much as he stared at the butterfly sun tattooed on her lower back below her tiny white tank top.

The hostess led them to a corner table where an older couple was having dinner. She left and returned with a single chair, explaining that it was the only one available at the moment. Mike offered it to Ginny but she shook her head and replied, "We can share."

He immediately took back his reservations about the restaurant as she sat, soft and warm and smelling of the ocean, on his groin, mindful of his knees’ inability to hold her. She fed him jerk chicken wings and rice and peas by hand, and they shared a few beers. The older woman sitting beside them looked on with a grin as Ginny went to the bathroom, turning back and warning, "Don't eat my fries."

"Your wife is just gorgeous," she remarked.

Mike smiled as he shook his head. "She's not my wife."

He wasn't even sure if he could call her his girlfriend as it had only been a week. Granted it was a week of sharing a bed and perpetually cuddling, and even a kiss or two. They just hadn't made anything official, crossed any definitive lines.

"Not yet," the woman answered.

"Maybe if I'm lucky."

"Oh you won't need luck," the husband remarked with a smile, reaching out to nudge Mike like old men did.

"You've been eating my fries," Ginny accused as she fell heavily enough onto his lap to make him grunt.

"Easy," he teased, reaching around her for a piece of chicken.

She turned to smile and scrunch up her nose. "Forgot about your old bones."

He laughed as he bit the drumette then offered her a bite. They spent the rest of their dinner that way, laughing and teasing each other. When they left the restaurant, Ginny pointed out the tattoo shop across the street, pulling him along by his wrist before he could react. She immediately went to look at pictures of their work, pointing out a few to him to which Mike shook his head. "Absolutely not, rookie."

"Come on. It'll be fun. We'll just get something small. They'll be cute."

Mike smirked. "I don't really do cute."

"Fine. I can get one by myself," she replied then went to the counter, grinning at the bald man sitting behind it.

He smiled as he leaned over the glass case holding various rings for piercings. "What you want, pretty gyal?"

Mike frowned as she leaned over the counter to whisper in his ear, especially when he grinned like she was promising him something. A moment later, he walked around the counter and showed Ginny to a chair. Mike shook his head as he sat in a chair. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Shut up and hold my hand," she replied with a smirk as she held out her wrist for the man to swab with alcohol.

"A wrist tattoo? You're so _edgy_ , Baker."

"I said I wanted something cute, and you can't judge because you're not getting anything at all, old man."

"Alright that's enough of that." Never one to concede a challenge, he looked at the man who was prepping his needles. "I'll have whatever she's having."

What Ginny was having turned out to be two tiny numbers on her wrist that made Mike's face flush crimson. "Gin..."

She smiled. "This way it'll always be our thing."

Another artist emerged from the back, this one with locs swinging down to his waist. He looked at Mike. "You next?"

Mike nodded then pointed at the stencil on Ginny's wrist. "Mine's gonna be a 43."

Ginny winced at the contact of the needle and Mike looked over at her, smirked at her outstretched hand as he reached over to take it.

X

They had made plans to go dancing but they were quickly dispatched in favor of delivered pizza and a marathon of Hoarders. Ginny's draped over Mike like a cat on the sofa, practically purring as he kneads the knots in her lower back. She looks up at him when he chuckles. "What's funny?"

"I'm a millionaire cliche. Retired on the beach with a twenty-something girlfriend. All I need is a bunch of gold rings."

Ginny laughs. "Am I your girlfriend?"

Mike pops the tip  of her nose with his fingertip. "If you're not you should kissing me every chance you get. People probably have the wrong idea."

"You're putting me up in a beachfront condo. I'm earning my keep."

"Well you're slacking on your payments." At this, she sits up on her elbows and plants a kiss on his lips. Mike shakes his head. "That's just not gonna cut it, Baker."

She gives him another kiss and he shakes his head again. "Good lord, rookie, you've turned into a real slacker."

Ginny pushes him back on the couch and kisses him hard, shoves her tongue in his mouth. Mike's hands have just moved to caress the curve of her ass when the doorbell rings and Ginny drags her mouth away from his. Mike pulls her back, entangling his hand in her hair but Ginny shakes her head, pulls away again. "I'm hungry, old man."

Mike smirks as he lets her go. "Since you want it so bad, you can pay."

Ginny snorts as she goes to the bedroom to get her wallet. She reaches out and smacks his thigh on her way back through the living room. "You know, I could say the same to you."

Ginny pays for the pizza, tips the slight delivery boy then resumes her spot on the couch, opening the box of pizza on the coffee table.

Mike asks, "So where do you wanna go next?"

Ginny shrugs. "I didn't know we were leaving."

Mike shrugs too. "Just figured we could island hop a little."

Ginny shakes her head. "I don't mind it here. We've got the beach and nice neighbors."

"So you don't wanna go anywhere else?"

Ginny shrugs again. "Maybe on vacation."

"A vacation from our vacation?"

"Yeah. We live on the beach so I'm sure we'll wanna get to the city once in a while, but it's nice here. Peaceful."

"It is," Mike agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos or reviews!! XOXOXO


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been literally 84 years since I updated. I have no excuse other than that I'm trash. 
> 
> And this was supposed to be smut, but I, like my beloved human disaster Mike Lawson, have quite the marshmallow center and couldn't help myself.

Mike’s not sure if he should be jealous or preening with pride as he watches Ginny dance with yet another man in the tiny club. In San Diego, he’d have already slugged a guy on the off chance that Ginny might like him, but in their new home, he’s not even bothered. There’s a certain ego boost that comes with being the guy with the girl, he notes as Ginny smiles at him, her hips never losing their rhythm.

A woman dances over to Ginny and says something, gesturing to her freshly braided hair that now hung down to the middle of her back in neat cornrows done by the elderly woman who lived in the bungalow closest to theirs. Ginny smiles, nods her thanks, and she and the woman begin dancing. Mike’s eyebrows raise when the woman snakes her arms around Ginny and settles them on her gyrating hips. It doesn’t take long for the woman’s face to fall to Ginny’s neck, and Mike watches for a reaction from his girlfriend. His eyebrows quirk at her lack of reaction, and he sits back on his barstool to watch a little longer. Ginny’s eyes drift to him and she grins, darting her tongue out of her mouth. Mike raises his beer, smiles back. She beckons him over and Mike weaves through the crowd to get to her.

“Having fun?” he asks with a smile as she wraps her arms around his neck.

She nods, giggling, her bright colored cocktail sloshing around in her hand, then gestures over her shoulder. “This is Sierra.”

He looks over her shoulder, smiles at the green-eyed woman who turns her gaze away from Ginny to him and smiles briefly. “I’m Mike.”

They shake hands but Mike realizes he’s of no interest to her, her attentions much more geared toward Ginny who leans over to murmur in his ear, “She’s flirting with me.”

Mike laughs, replies, “Your ass is flirting back.”

Ginny laughs, turns around to smile at the woman dancing with her, who asks, “Are you with him?”

Ginny nods. “I’m not gay.”

Sierra laughs, shakes her head. “That’s a shame. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replies, her eyes falling to their winding hips. “How do you do that?”

She smiles, gestures for Ginny to turn around, and presses against her harder, her hands guiding their movements. Ginny beckons Mike close again and he steps into her space, lets her wrap her arms around his neck. Soon a second woman joins them, and she wraps an arm around Sierra’s neck, her dark skin gleaming against her friend’s lighter complexion. She murmurs in her ear for a moment before Sierra lets Ginny go, grinning flirtatiously as she looks between the two women.

“Kris this is Ginny.” Mike almost laughs when the woman takes a step toward Ginny but Sierra quickly explains, “She’s not gay. That’s her man.”

Kris steps back just as quickly, offers a polite handshake and a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Ginny replies with a smile.

Kris wraps her arm around Sierra’s waist, gestures to the door, and Sierra nods then turns to Ginny. “Bye.”

They exchange a hug that lingers a moment too long before Sierra walks away with Kris, turning over her shoulder to wave again. Mike pulls Ginny close, smiling. “You’re popular.”

Ginny laughs. “I look good tonight.”

That she does in the black high-necked bodysuit with its nonexistent back, a mesh olive green sarong tied around his hops, and sandals with tall wooden heels. Mike’s fingers press into the small of her back, pulling her close before they slide down to the curve of her ass. “Ready to go?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows. “I can’t leave with you. I have a boyfriend.”

“Big guy?”

She nods.

“Jealous?”

She nods again, a smile on her face.

“We better get out of here quick then.” They leave the loud club and Mike crowds her against their rental car as she moves to open the door. He wraps an arm around her waist, presses her against the door, his lips on her ear. His fingers press into her stomach as he murmurs, “I can’t wait to get you home and bend you over.”

“Then you should drive fast,” Ginny gasps as his hand slips under her sarong to cup her warm sex.

He does, thanking God as he makes every green light between the club and their bungalow. They hurry to the door, falling against it in a heated kiss. Mike’s hands fumble with his keys, his mind more focused on rubbing his cock, heavy and pulsing between their writhing frames, against Ginny as she snakes a leg around his waist.

They both sigh with relief when he finally gets the door open and they tumble inside. Ginny’s pulse quickens at the sight of Mike’s face, his expression almost predatory with his eyes so dark as he stalks her down the hallway to the living room. She gives the smallest smile, takes a half step back, intent on running from him, but his hands are on her before she can scurry away. He spins her to face the wall and presses her wrists up over her head, his lips instantly attached to the skin at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s hips press back against his, rotating wantonly against his as Mike crowded her against the wall. His teeth sink into her shoulder and Ginny hisses, “Did I make you crazy tonight?”

“Is that what you were doing?” he replies, his voice thick with arousal.

“Mmhmm,” she answers immediately. “Wanted…”

“You wanted me to fuck you,” he growls and Ginny’s surprised at the wetness that pools between her legs. They’ve been on the island for a month and had sex everywhere imaginable, but this change—this other side of Mike—surprises and excites her. Ginny whimpers an answer, her head falling back against his shoulder as one of his thick thighs nudges her legs apart.

“Fuck…” Ginny squirms, rubbing her throbbing cunt against him.

“That’s right.” His hand grips one breast then the other. “This is what you wanted. What you needed.”

“Yes,” she breathes, trembling in his arms. He undoes the tie around her neck holding the bodysuit up and she quickly rids herself of it, kicking it off when it pools around her feet. Mike pulls her away from the wall, leads her to the arm of the couch and bends her over it.

His pants fall around his ankles and he kicks them off along with his loafers as he strips out of his t-shirt. When his right hand falls between her legs, he’s not surprised to find hers already there. “Anxious?”

Ginny nods, fucking his fingers, her lip pulled between her teeth. “Can’t…wait…”

“I know,” he replies, pressing the leaking tip of his erection against her warm entrance.

His plans of teasing her are immediately lost and he plunges inside her to the hilt, both of them groaning. He pulls her hands into the small of her back, holding her wrists together. His fingers lock on her left hip and he sets a thunderous pace, her feet lifting off the floor as her moans echo in the quiet room.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he grunts. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He lets go of her hip, his fingers digging into her left ass cheek instead, and slows his strokes until he’s practically teasing her. “You’re taking my cock like such a good girl…”

“Fuck _Mike_!” Ginny clenches hard, her body trembling, as she pushes back to meet his thrusts. Mike takes hold of her hips, moves his hand to her clit and flicks it until she lets out a keening cry.

“So ti—” His words devolve into a low groan as his thrusts lose all their rhythm as Ginny snaps her thighs together, desperate to get some friction on her clit.

“You…gonna…cum?” Ginny doesn’t even recognize her own voice as she wrenches her hands free, pulls Mike’s hand up to her hair. He gathers a handful of braids, tugs gently until her head falls back. “Fuck yeah. Come inside me, Mike. I need it.”

He lets out a strangled groan, his teeth muffling the sound as they sink into her shoulder, his cock pulsing inside her.

“Fuck we made a mess,” he murmurs against her sweaty flesh.

“Who’s we?” Ginny teases.

“Cum inside me, Mike,” he whines in a high-pitch voice he frequently uses for what he swears is his dead-on impression of her. “I need it!”

“I do _not_ sound like that.” She swats his hip.

“Sure you don’t, rookie.” He stands upright, pulls out. “You wanna shower first?”

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“You’re looking a little peaky there, rookie. You want a Gatorade or something?” He snickers, giving her ass a smack as he heads for the bathroom. A few minutes later, Ginny waddles to the bathroom. Mike’s sitting in the tub, his head tipped back. She smirks at him. “I thought you were starting the shower for me.”

He shrugs, grinning with his eyes still closed. “Change of plans, rook. I had to pull rank.”

“You’re not my captain anymore, old man.” Ginny climbs into the bath, straddling him backwards.

“I bet I can make you call me captain,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear. “I made you call me daddy last night.”

“Oh my god I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

Mike laughs, bites her earlobe. “Never.”

Ginny reaches back, runs her fingers through his hair, asks, “Can I tell you something?”

“I already know my dick’s the biggest you’ve ever seen, but you can say it if you want.”

She snorts, gives his hair a tug. “You just had to ruin the moment, old man. I don’t even wanna say it anymore.”

“Come on.” He nuzzles the curve of her jaw. “Tell me.”

She laughs, shakes her head. “No. I don’t wanna tell you I love you while we’re talking about your dick.”

“You love me?” He leans forward to look at her face then frowns. “Wait, I knew that.”

“I know you know. I just wanted to say it. You screwed that up though.”

Mike laughs, wraps his arms around her. “How can I fix it?”

She gives him her poutiest expression, shakes her head. “I don’t know. Say something better.”

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun,” he replies.

Ginny turns to look at him, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“Too obscure? Let me try again. You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you.” He smirks. “It’s Mr. Darcy. Come on, Baker, where’s your culture?”

“I know who it is.” Ginny frowns as she looks over his face. “I was just wondering how you knew. _Pride and Prejudice_ is my favorite book. How did you… Did I tell you that?”

He shakes his head. “My mom and I used to watch the movies on her bad days. After somebody dumped her, she’d stay in bed, watch a different version on repeat. She’d keep me home from school and we’d order pizza, watch together. If we didn’t have a working tv, she’d read me the book. After a while, I could repeat it word for word.”

“Could you get any cuter?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be able to take myself.”

Ginny scrunches her nose. “And you’re back to normal.”

“But you love me anyway.”

She kisses the tip of his nose. “I do. I love you, old man.”

“How could you not?” He kisses her cheeks then her lips. “I love you too, rookie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me as I write: I do this for the creative outlet  
> Me as I post: I live for the validation of kudos and comments
> 
> Validate me lol XOXOXOXOXO


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